In Which Bruce Teaches Tony How to Cook
by irregular-pioneer
Summary: [Sorry about the name... But it does explain the plot]


Tony sat in the dark lab, a hundred holographic screens shrouding him in a cloud of blue-tinted charts, graphs, and diagrams. He expanded a window of clear blue with a simple gesture, then waved it away as footsteps approached him, "Pepper, now is not really the time. Can't whatever little problem or person that needs me just wait for another couple of hours?" he asked, focus still resting on the project at hand.

"Pepper?" Bruce asked with a chuckle, "I guess she's not too light on her feet… No, but, Tony, you've been down here… What? Twenty hours, now? I think it's about time you ate something." Banner had been becoming concerned with the habits Tony had been displaying over the past few days, a couple hours in the lab every day turned into dozens, only being coaxed out with a meal or a promise of liquor, "Come on," he pleaded when Tony simply closed a few windows and brought up a separate set.

Tony muttered something to himself, before speaking clearly, "Only nineteen," he corrected, gesturing again at the windows of charts and graphs.

Bruce took a few steps forward, resting his hand on Tony's shoulder and spinning him around so that they faced each other, "Tony," he said firmly, "You need to eat, you can't do this," he waved a hand up and down the other man.

Tony let out a ragged sigh, grabbing a half-empty bottle of hard liquor and standing up, "Fine," he said before taking a few shaky steps and resting his hand on Bruce's shoulder to steady himself as he was disoriented from the alcohol and the hours of sitting he had been doing, "But, after dinner, I'm coming back down to finish this."

Bruce rolled his eyes, helping Tony to the door of the elevator, "No, you're not. After dinner, we're going to bed, it's almost three in the morning," he said, pressing the green 'up' arrow by the door, which opened promptly.

Tony sighed, stepping into the elevator and detaching himself from Bruce as he regained his balance, "But, I'm so close to finishing this up," he complained. He silently watched Bruce select the floor number for the penthouse and lean against the mirror which the wall was composed of before crossing his arm loosely over his purple button up.

"No, Anthony, you have to resurface sometime or another," he reasoned, tightening his arms around his chest.

Tony sighed with resignation, throwing his head back in a dramatic gesture, "Fine," he conceded, "Then what are we having for dinner?"

Bruce shrugged, not wanting to actually cook anything, "What's open at three AM?" he asked as the elevator slowed down and they arrived on the top floor and they both stepped out of the door side-by-side.

"I don't know," Tony said, finding the kitchen counter and sitting at one of the bar stools, "Can't you make me something?"

Bruce let out a deep breath, following Tony and standing opposite him, "Tony, I really don't feel like cooking," he explained.

Tony sunk onto the counter before perking back up with an idea, "Hey, cooking can't be _that_ hard, right? I mean you just mix stuff together and put heat on it," he mused, going around the counter to join Bruce.

Bruce stared at Tony curiously as he caught onto the train of thought quickly, "No, Tony, have you ever actually cooked anything before?" he asked.

Tony shrugged, "No, but I mean you just follow the directions, right?"

"I guess I could teach you how to make food," he said hesitantly, not feeling up to the task, "What do you want to make?" he asked, searching the mainly empty cupboards and fridge.

Tony shrugged, pressing himself into Bruce's side as he helped him search, "We don't really have much…" he commented, looking at the half carton of eggs, the inch of milk left in the gallon jug, the few shreds of cheese, and a multitude of condiments, "An omelette is just eggs and milk, right?"

Bruce nodded, "Yeah. Plus, I guess that's all we can really make," he said, grabbing the carton, the jug, and the quarter stick of butter out of the refrigerator. He placed the few ingredients on the island in the center of the kitchen, then grabbed a nonstick skillet off of the circular metal pan holder which hung in the center of the room.

Tony watched silently, leaning against the counter as he watched Bruce's shirt lift slightly from where it rested in the waistband of his slacks. He quickly shook the indecent thoughts out of his head and searched for a small mixing bowl, which he found easily, and placed next to the ingredients on the island. While Bruce placed the pan on the stove, Tony looked hesitantly at the eggs and milk.

"Don't worry, honey," Bruce said, "They're not going to hurt you," he chuckled, taking an egg and cracking it into the small glass bowl. He went around to stand behind Tony and pressed himself against his back, grabbing another egg and placing it in the other's hand. He rested his own hands on top of Tony's and guided him, helping him to perform the simple task.

"I know how to crack an egg, Banner," Tony said, although he wasn't complaining, he actually enjoyed the close contact. Bruce smiled lightly as the shell cracked on the edge of the bowl and the whites and yolk leaked out into the small dish. They each grabbed another egg and cracked them before Tony poured the remaining milk into the mixture.

Tony wiggled slightly, trying to escape from his tight spot between Bruce and the counter. Bruce chuckled, pressing himself further into Tony for a couple seconds, watching him squirm before letting him go. Tony stuck his tongue out at Bruce for a second before finding the silverware drawer and taking a fork out, handing it to the other man, "You need to stir it, right?" Tony said, it was more of a command than a question.

Bruce nodded in response, taking the cutlery from Tony and using it as though it was a whisk, expertly mixing the ingredients together to form a custard yellow-colored substance. He watched as Tony hesitantly turned the knob of the stove and wiggled a small amount of butter into the pan, momentarily looking over to Bruce for approval.

Bruce nodded again, handing him the bowl of eggs and milk and watched as he poured it in, laughing lightly at his reaction to the sizzle. He stood behind him again, resting his chin on Tony's shoulder and his other hand on his stomach. He placed a spatula in the other's hand and helped him to guide it so that it grazed over the mixture, pushing the eggs gently to one side of the pan.

It didn't take too long for the entire pan to be covered in yellow, cooked egg and for Bruce to help Tony fold it over onto a plate. The result was not bad, a small pile of steaming yellow fluff rested on the plate and Tony hopped up on the counter before he drew it towards himself. He salted it before he cut it in half, shoving one side to the edge of the plate.

Bruce rested his head awkwardly on Tony's chest and they shared the breakfast food in silence. Once they were done, Tony hopped off of the counter, leaving the empty plate where it rested, and took Bruce by the hand. The engineer led the scientist into the bedroom, where they both quickly fell into each other's arms and a long overdue, deep slumber


End file.
